


Pride and Prejudice (and Proctoring)

by superstringtheory



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Caretaking, Enemies to Lovers, Fever, Getting Together, Graduate School, Hurt/Comfort, Influenza, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sickfic, Slow Burn, University of Wisconsin Badgers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-08-23 18:44:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20247538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superstringtheory/pseuds/superstringtheory
Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single graduate student in possession of a good mind and TA position, must be in want of a boyfriend.Klaus Hargreeves and Dave Katz are both TAs in Prof. Hargreeves' (no relation) Psych 101 course. They get off on the wrong foot but have to make nice as they share an office and TA responsibilities.Klaus can't get over how annoying Dave is, but could his annoyance be something more?





	1. Chapter 1

“It’s not that I don’t like him, you know, it’s just that I’m not his biggest fan.” Klaus sips at his iced coffee and does a quick glance around the coffeeshop to make sure Professor Hargreeves’ other TA isn’t there in a corner booth or something. Or Professor Hargreeves, for that matter. Klaus shudders at the thought. 

“I thought you thought he was cute.” Klaus’ best friend Ben says. He works at some fancy tech startup, has been since they graduated from college, and has the flexibility to come down to campus to meet Klaus for lunch or coffee pretty much whenever. 

“He’s not  _ not _ cute,” Klaus allows, between sips of coffee. “It’s just the personality. Big turn-off.” He blinks at Ben over the top of his cup. 

“Sure.” Ben sips at his own matcha latte. “And that’s why you’re always telling me about this Dave person.” 

“Not telling, Ben! Com _ plain _ ing.” 

“Uh-huh.” Ben doesn’t look convinced, but it’s not like Klaus needs to convince him of anything anyway. Dave Katz is a stuck-up know-it-all and Klaus doesn’t think about him when he doesn’t have to, like,  _ at all _ . 

“It’s like,” Klaus continues, “No one cares that he went to the University of Michigan or that it’s like, the quote-unquote Ivy League of the Midwest.” 

“Mm,” Ben says. “A Wolverine. I can see why you don’t like him.” 

“Don’t make fun,” Klaus scoffs, and takes a huffy sip of his drink. “He wears that stupid U of M  _ polo shirt _ about twice a week. It’s like, get another shirt already!” 

“And some fashion sense, am I right?” Ben gestures to Klaus’ current ensemble: kilt, mid-calf Doc Martens, long-sleeve fishnet top with a t-shirt over the top, and a few layered necklaces to round out the look. 

“Exactly!” Klaus says, and Ben just stifles a laugh into his latte. 

“Anyway.” Klaus swirls his straw. “I just want to focus on my work, you know? But he’s always  _ there _ in my office, making Cuban coffee or whatever.” 

“Don’t you share the office?” Ben takes another sip of latte and surveys Klaus with a mild-- but far from harmless-- smile on his face. 

Klaus sighs dramatically. “Okay, fine. It’s the graduate assistant shared office. Technically.” 

“Literally.” 

“Whatever. It’s just hard to meet with my students when he’s stirring espresso.” 

“Where else would you have him go?” Ben asks. “The hallway?” 

“It’d be a start.” Klaus purses his lips and sucks at his straw. “I just can’t wait until I can start working on my thesis and I’ll be done co-TA-ing with  _ Dave _ .” 

“Just think, though,” Ben says. “What will we even have to talk about after that? God knows I don’t want to hear about your thesis.” 

Klaus gives him the finger, but it’s all in good fun. He really should stop talking Ben’s ear off about  _ Dave Katz _ every time they meet up for coffee. It’s getting a little repetitive. The guy is just so annoying, though- he’s sure Ben can’t blame him. 

*** 

See, the whole thing with Dave had started out poorly from the start. First, the guy had showed up in that stupid blue-and-maize polo shirt, and then had the  _ audacity _ to comment on Klaus’ choice of outfit for orientation. 

“I see we’re dressed for the occasion,” Dave had said, and his face had looked like someone who was trying not to laugh and almost failing. 

“Excuse me? Have we met?” Klaus’ hackles had risen just from the tone of this asshat’s voice. 

“I’m Dave Katz,” Dave had said. “Prof. Hargreeves’ other TA. You must be Klaus...?” 

“Hargreeves,” Klaus had said. “No relation, thank god.” 

“Really? Seems like a pretty uncommon last name to me.” Dave had still been smiling--  _ smirking, really _ . 

“I hope you aren’t insinuating nepotism,” Klaus had said with a little huff. “And now that we’re introduced, don’t you think we should get on with it?” 

“Bold move, Hargreeves,” Dave had said next. “But I think for today I’ll stick to being”-- his gaze had slowly run over Klaus’ outfit again-- “ _ professional _ .” 

“As if,” Klaus had snapped. “I meant that we should get on with meeting with the professor. Clearly.” 

“Clearly,” Dave had repeated, and god, what. A. Jerk. Klaus hadn’t found him attractive  _ at all _ then, and he certainly doesn’t now. 

For instance, when Klaus gets back to the Humanities building, Dave is sharpening what looks like an entire box of yellow number two pencils with an electric pencil sharpener. 

“Hi,” Klaus says by way of greeting. “What are you doing?” 

“Sharpening pencils,” Dave says, blowing some pencil dust off of a freshly sharp pencil. He inserts the next one into the sharpener, and Klaus has to speak over the noise. 

“I see that, but… why? We just finished midterms.” 

“Sure did,” Dave says, on to his next pencil. “And those undergrads wore these down to nubs. I’m just getting them ready for finals now so we won’t have to do it then. You’re welcome.” 

Klaus rolls his eyes and goes over to his desk. He opens up his email and tries to ignore the sound of pencil sharpening. He almost thanks a god-- any god-- when the whirring sound stops, but then Dave appears next to him and plunks a big file folder on Klaus’ desktop. 

“Here,” Dave says. “Hardass told me to give these to you.” 

“Thanks,” Klaus says, not meaning it. He takes the folder of scantrons and sighs. “Ugh, I can’t wait until midterms are over. I hate grading these.” 

“Hey,” Dave says. “I’m just the messenger. And we each have half.” 

“Whatever,” Klaus says, and slips his over-ear headphones on. He takes the next hour to respond to emails from his discussion group students, soothing frazzled nerves and answering last-minute follow-up questions. He’s not sure why so many of these undergrads are such go-getters, but they’re all so earnest (well, the ones who come to lecture consistently, anyway) that he finds it sweet. 

Klaus remembers being an undergrad here, in these very same hallowed halls… well, they might not feel quite so hallowed anymore, but he’s still glad to be here. He’s loved being in Madison (voted the number-one college football town  _ again _ this year, not that Klaus cares about “jumping around” or Bucky Badger or any of that) and is grateful to have secured a spot in the psychology Ph.D program. Hardass or no, Prof. Hargreeves is  _ the _ professor to be working for, and Klaus is lucky to be here. 

Klaus is moving on to checking scantrons when there’s a tap on his shoulder. 

“Pardon?” Klaus is annoyed; he’s gotten into the groove of checking the sheets against the key, and is making good progress on his folder. 

“I made extra coffee,” Dave says. “Do you want some?” 

Ugh. Dave is always interrupting him when he’s doing work. Who  _ taps _ someone on the  _ shoulder _ anymore? Why can’t he just send him a Gchat from across the room like a normal person? 

“Fine,” Klaus says. He accepts the coffee and finishes up his grading before he has to head out to his own class. 

“See you around,” Dave says as he’s leaving. 

“Yeah,” Klaus says, because of course they’ll see each other around. They share this tiny office in the giant, Brutalist structure that is the Humanities building. It’d be pretty hard  _ not  _ to see each other. 

*** 

Two weeks go by, and Klaus gets invited to a departmental “Friendsgiving” and he RSVPs “yes” because he’s not going home (shudder). He hasn’t been home for a Thanksgiving since what Ben likes to call the “Sophomore Slop” and he’d rather not repeat that experience, thank you very much. 

He texts Allison, the third-year graduate student who’s hosting the get-together at her apartment:  _ is it okay if I bring a plus one?  _

**Allison: ** _ Katz? He’s already coming. But sure ;)  _

Jesus. Klaus is never going to live down that silly rumor someone had started back in September. 

**Klaus:** _just to be clear we’re still NOT dating _

**Klaus:** _and never were_

**Klaus:** _and never will be_

**Allison:** _;) _

Ugh. Well, whatever- he’ll bring Ben, they’ll have a good time even though stupid Dave Katz will be there, probably wearing his stupid polo shirt. 

Klaus texts Ben about the Friendsgiving, and Ben immediately asks if “that guy you’re so hung up on” will be there. Klaus  _ can’t even _ with him, so he tells Ben that his comment means that Ben is now in charge of buying and bringing the alcohol. 

As if Ben will care; he makes more at his tech job than Klaus will  _ ever _ see in academia, but Klaus is okay with that. He’s super excited about his proposed thesis topic-- sure, he won’t get to start writing it for another two years, but still!-- on the psychology behind perceived paranormal experiences. 

Klaus opens a new browser on his computer and starts looking for a good cookie recipe. 

He’s one hundred percent, not-at-all thinking about what-- or  _ who _ \-- Dave Katz might bring to the party. 

*** 

Ben shows up at Klaus’ apartment on the Friday after Thanksgiving, toting a couple of growlers of some fancy local craft beer. 

“Jesus Christ, open up,” Ben’s voice comes muffled through the door. “I’m gonna drop one of these and it was  _ not _ cheap.” 

Klaus opens the door with his shirt off- he’s still deciding which one to wear- and Ben whistles. 

“Now  _ that’s _ a look that will make everyone talk.” 

“Shut up,” Klaus says, letting him in. “I’m just putting my outfit together.” 

“Listen,” Ben says. “You know we need to be there in like, twenty minutes?” 

“I’m aware.” Klaus goes back to flicking through his standing clothes rack. “Ugh. I just don’t know what  _ goes _ with these pants.” 

Ben gives him a sardonic look. 

“Whatever, Ben. No one cares about your Rag & Bone t-shirts or your Japanese selvedge denim.” 

Klaus finally selects a vintage 1990s Looney Tunes t-shirt to go with his yellow-and-black plaid skinny jeans, and throws it on. 

“Okay, I’m ready.” 

“No accessories?” 

“Oh, now you’re just teasing. But you’re right.” Klaus loops a lock-and-key necklace over his head and checks himself out in the mirror. “Okay. For real, I’m ready.” 

“Already called an Uber,” Ben says. 

They traipse downstairs when the car arrives and load the beer into the backseat. Ben insists on buckling it in like a human child and Klaus doesn’t even give him that much grief for it because he’s  _ cold _ and he wants to get to the party and have a drink already. 

Allison and her boyfriend, Luther-- who  _ clearly _ played Division I football somewhere-- live in a cute little house with original wood flooring and a fireplace. 

“We’re just renting,” Allison warns as Ben and Klaus step inside. “So don’t spill on the floor, I beg of you.” She kisses Klaus on both cheeks, European-style, and shakes Ben’s hand. 

“My best friend from college,” Klaus introduces, and Ben holds up the growlers. 

“Aha,” Allison says with a twinkle in her eye. “You’re very welcome, Klaus’ best friend from college. I need me some best friends like that.” 

After they’ve taken their shoes off, Allison leads them into the kitchen to drop off the drinks and Klaus’ platter of cookies (soft-baked white chocolate chip and candy corn). She pulls her curly hair up into a scrunchie she had looped around her wrist and calls out for her boyfriend. 

“Hey, Luther! Come meet Klaus and his friend.” 

“Friend?” Someone asks, and Klaus jumps like he’s just seen a ghost. 

Of course. It’s Dave, skulking in a corner of the kitchen like a perfectly sculpted Jewish gargoyle. If perfectly sculpted Jewish gargoyles wore polo shirts. 

“Yeah,” Klaus says. “This is Ben.” He waves a hand in Ben’s general direction. “Ben, this is Dave.” He makes sure to step on Ben’s foot as he says it so that Ben can’t say anything too unsavory. 

“Ow,  _ Jesus _ , Klaus”-- Ben extends his hand-- “nice to meet you, Dave.” 

“All right,” Klaus says. “We’ve all met. Now who’s going to get me a drink?” 

*** 

It’s a nice party, Klaus has to admit- Allison and Luther have a big dining table with mismatched chairs (“from Hippie Christmas,” Allison confides), and have done a good job with seating people near others they’d want to talk to. 

Well, except for the whole thing about Dave being right across the table from Klaus, but whatever. He can deal with it for one night. The craft beer Ben had gotten is  _ good _ , and Allison is pouring wine like it’s going out of style. She’d been his TA when Klaus was a junior, and they’d kept in touch afterwards, Klaus getting advice from her about what it was like to be a grad student in the department. 

Klaus knows most of the people here, and he makes sure to introduce Ben to everyone he personally knows: Dave, of course (ugh); Diego, another third-year in Allison’s cohort; Vanya, Allison’s sister who’s studying music education; Luther, Allison’s beefcake of a boyfriend; and Pogo, who’s going to be up for his dissertation defense this spring (“I was a childhood pogo stick champion,” he says with chagrin to explain his nickname). Allison introduces the rest: Grace, her college roommate; and Delores, Vanya’s new girlfriend, who won’t say anything about herself other than she “likes cats” in a monotone while pointing at Luther and Allison’s cat. 

Said cat can’t seem to leave Klaus alone, and while Klaus also “likes cats,” he’d rather not keep having to interact with him when the cat keeps smushing his face into Klaus’ arm and making Ben say that Klaus is “petting the pussy.” 

Finally, Klaus says, “Five is a  _ male _ cat, Ben, and he’s  _ much _ older than he looks, so I think we’d both appreciate it if you’d shut it and get me another drink in the meantime.” 

Dave snickers at this exchange, but Klaus ignores him. The food is delicious-- everyone raves about his cookies-- and the drinks are still flowing. He is having a Good Time and intends to keep enjoying himself. 

*** 

An hour later, Klaus realizes that he might be a teensy bit drunk. Also, he might have eaten a little too much because he had to unbutton the skinny jeans, but they were tight to begin with so he’s not faulting himself for that. 

“I heard you made these cookies,” Dave says, suddenly appearing at Klaus’ elbow while Klaus is shoving another of said cookies into his mouth. 

“Mmph,” Klaus says, creatively. 

“They’re good,” Dave tells him, reaching for one over Klaus’ arm. His fingers brush against Klaus’ forearm as he grabs the cookie, but for some reason-- he must be  _ deliriously  _ drunk!-- Klaus doesn’t immediately pull away. 

“Good recipe,” Klaus allows, still chewing. 

“Must be,” Dave says. “So, uh… you and Ben…” He trails off, looking awkward. He runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair. “How long have you, uh, been together?” 

Klaus almost spits out a mouthful of cookie, and that’d be a waste of a truly great cookie. 

“Pardon?” 

“I mean, you’ve got that whole tit-for-tat vibe down.” Dave takes a bite of his own cookie. 

“Me? And Ben?” Klaus is still stuck on this misconception. 

“Yeah,” Dave says, slower, like it’s obvious. “You’re together, right?” 

Klaus laughs, maybe a little too loudly. “Please.” 

“So… you’re not?” There’s a strange expression on Dave’s face. 

“No?” Klaus is still kind of confused about what they’re talking about. Who could look at him with  _ Ben _ and think that they were dating? They’re more like brothers than anything else. 

“All right.” Dave’s backing away now, a few steps, like he needs some distance between himself and Klaus. “I guess I just thought…” 

And because Klaus is more than a little drunk by now and because he didn’t earn the moniker “motor mouth” in elementary school for nothing, he says, “I guess you thought wrong. It’s like you don’t even know me at all. If I had a boyfriend, don’t you think I would have mentioned it at some point during the last  _ semester _ we’ve been sharing that tiny office?” 

  
Klaus pauses to take a swig of a nearby glass of beer. He’s not sure if it was originally his, but he’s completely sure that he doesn’t care. 

“I know  _ so _ \-- fucking--  _ much _ \-- about you, Dave Katz,” Klaus says, stepping forward, cutting the space between them again. “I know that you wear that stupid Michigan polo shirt way too much and why can’t you just wear a shirt of the school you’re actually going to? It’s like you think you’re too good for us.” 

Dave must be a little drunk too, because he bursts out hotly, right in Klaus’ face, “Well, then I guess neither of us know each other very well, then.” 

And then he turns on his heel and gets his coat and shoes and leaves. The. Party. 

“Well,” Klaus says to Ben, draping an arm over his shoulder, “You can’t account for taste.” 

*** 

After that, there’s two whole weeks where there is nearly complete and utter silence in the shared Humanities office of the Hargreeves TAs. There’s no more Cuban coffee, no more pencil sharpening, and no more commiseration about Hardass and the flighty undergrads who half-ass their assignments and use Facebook during lecture. 

It’s better this way, Klaus tells himself. This is exactly what he wanted! A quiet office-- mostly-- to himself. Just one more semester after this of being co-TAs with Dave Katz. Ultimately, he and Klaus can go their separate ways-- inasmuch as will be possible in the Psychology department. 

Final exams time rolls around, and they’ve moved on to overly polite exchanges in front of Hardass and the students, and Klaus almost forgets about the whole Dave Katz  _ thing _ because he’s so focused on finishing his own final papers and then getting ready to proctor for their discussion sections. 

It’s a marathon, not a sprint, is what Klaus says to himself as he’s turning in his last paper. Just proctoring, and then grading, and then he’ll be done with his first semester of grad school. He’s almost there. 

The next morning he wakes up with a horrible sore throat. 

*** 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two, in which Klaus is Very Sick and Dave might be a good person?

Klaus has never been one to overly concern himself with his physical health. He gets sick a few times a year, usually with some sort of cold or sore throat, and then he gets over it. It’s not a big deal. 

This… whatever illness  _ this _ is, though… it’s a doozy. The symptoms come on fast and hard, and it’s all Klaus can do to get himself dressed and through the door to make it to the 10 a.m. to 12 p.m. Psych 101 final exam he’s proctoring today. 

He’s doing this one on his own because it’s a smaller section, and then tomorrow morning (at 8 a.m., Christ’s everloving nipple) he’ll be co-proctoring with Dave for the larger group. 

It goes relatively well, all things considered, and after he’s collected all of the exam papers and put them safely in his office, Klaus makes a beeline for the near campus Walgreens and picks up some drugs. 

Klaus fully intends to just go home for a little while and take a quick nap before heading back to his office for his last office hours of the semester- aka, last-minute counseling sessions for the students taking the exam tomorrow- but he ends up completely crashed on his couch for hours. 

He wakes up and it’s five p.m. He’s groggy and achy, and the DayQuil has worn off. Muzzily, he feels around for his phone and startles at seeing how many messages and missed calls he has-- all from an unknown number. 

Klaus shivers and swipes up to read them chronologically. 

**Unknown: ** _ hey, are you coming in for office hours today? A few of your students have been here looking for you.  _

**Unknown:** _This is Dave, by the way._

**Unknown:** _From the UW. _

**Unknown: ** _ I’m sure you know that. Sorry.  _

**Unknown:** _I’m getting a little worried, are you coming in? _

**Unknown:** _sorry to call you a bunch of times but I just wanted to check _

**Unknown:** _So I took care of all your students for you so you’re welcome for that. You owe me one_

**Unknown:** _it’s weird that you haven’t gotten back to me, so I hope you’re okay. Just let me know that you’re still alive. _

Oh, Christ. 

Klaus thinks for a while- it’s hard because now his head hurts and his throat hurts and like, every joint in his body hurts and all he wants to do is go back to sleep, possibly for the next three years. 

**Klaus Hargreeves:** _yeah, I’m so sorry. I fell asleep and my phone was on silent. Thanks for taking care of my students. I owe you. _

After he sends the text, he taps to add contact information, and types in “Dave Katz.” He’s not sure why. It’s probably because he’s feverish. 

**Dave Katz:** _No problem. See you tomorrow bright and early. _

Klaus reads through this set of messages several times, but-- even through his foggy head-- it’s clear that Dave doesn’t seem to have any kind of ulterior motive. He’s just… helpful? Thoughtful? Concerned? 

Maybe Klaus was wrong about Dave this whole time. Come to think of it, he’s never said anything  _ actually _ outright offensive to Klaus. He’s been sardonic, sarcastic, and teasing-- and then there was that whole thing where he thought that Klaus and Ben were dating. Wasn’t that a laugh-- except for the hurt look on Dave’s face and the way he’d left the party afterwards. 

Klaus’ head is all muddled, and now he’s shivery and keeps coughing, but there’s something to this, he just knows it. He scrolls through his contacts and types a new message to Ben. 

**Klaus Hargreeves: ** _ random question but did you think that Dave was into me? _

**Klaus Hargreeves: ** _ at the Thanksgiving party I mean  _

Little dancing ellipses pop up immediately, and then a response from Ben. 

**Ben:** _ so into you _

**Ben:** _like, he left the party cuz you spurned him_

**Ben:** _i thought you knew that _

Well, doesn’t Klaus feel stupid now. 

*** 

He falls asleep again after choking down one of those single-serving soup things you can buy in your I’m-only-making-one-stop-because-I’m-super-sick-shopping-trips at Walgreens.

Klaus wakes up again at six a.m. and can’t get back to sleep because he’s suddenly convinced he’s going to miss the final, and isn’t that the kicker, being worried about missing a test and he’s not even the one taking it. 

He gets up and takes a long shower, which feels good at the time, but after he gets out he can’t stop shivering. He gets dressed in regular jeans and an old sweater of Luther’s that Allison had pawned off on him after she accidentally shrunk it in the wash. 

It is, without a doubt, the least exciting outfit he’s worn in  _ months _ . He thinks that the sweater may have even come from J. Crew. New. And it’s like, a crew neck. There isn’t even a  _ pattern _ . 

Sartorial concerns aside, Klaus feels like  _ shit _ . He can’t remember the last time he felt so sick, and if he ever did, he must’ve stayed in bed and slept through the worst of it. 

A little voice in a distant, aching region of his head says that the flu has been going around campus and that there was a departmental email sent out recently about the importance of handwashing, especially during finals time. 

Well, it’s not like he can just  _ skip  _ giving the students their exam. Klaus doses himself up with DayQuil and slowly makes himself some tea. The world feels underwater- he’s congested and sore all over, and the tea warms him up only briefly. 

He sneezes and kind of wants to die when it shifts all the congestion in his head and face and he has to rest his cheek on the table for just a little while. 

Klaus drags himself over to the couch and listlessly watches an early morning rerun of  _ Charmed _ because he can’t be bothered to change the channel. Eventually, finally, it’s time to leave for campus so he can make a stop at his office before heading to the assigned lecture hall for the exam. 

He thinks that he has a fever- well, he suspects he’s had one since sometime last night- but he’s not sure what to do about that right now. The DayQuil has only barely taken the edge off of things, but he doesn’t want to go down in Psych Department history as “the TA who proctored an exam high out of his mind on cold medicine” so he decides to just suck it up. It’s only two hours or so. After that, he can go back home and sleep until next semester. 

Getting to campus feels more arduous than usual- he opts for the bus because he can’t even  _ think _ about walking that far right now, and besides, it snowed last night and there’s a blanket of white over everything. 

Klaus makes it up to his office with thirty minutes to spare before the exam, so he starts collecting the materials needed, moving as if through molasses. 

“You want help with that?” 

Klaus startles a little and looks up. Dave Katz, looking far more chipper and healthy than any person has a right to look this morning, is pointing at the box of pre-sharpened number two pencils. 

“Yeah, sure.” Klaus’ voice comes out in a hoarse rasp, and because the universe hates him, his first utterance of the day throws him into a coughing jag. 

“Jesus Christ.” Dave’s face creases with concern. “You sound fucking awful.” 

“And?” All Klaus can manage is a single word. He cautiously clears his throat and swallows, wincing. 

“You need some tea or...?” Dave is still looking at him like he’s a baby deer with a broken leg or something. 

“Uh…” Klaus isn’t sure what to do with this. His mind is fuzzy already with congestion and fever and this new dynamic with Dave is throwing him for a loop. “Sure,” he decides finally. “But after we get the lecture hall set up for the exam.” 

Dave agrees, but insists on carrying the box of blank blue books and pencils, leaving Klaus with just his own book bag. 

They’re early enough that there’s plenty of time for Dave to run over to the nearby coffee kiosk and get Klaus a large, hot tea. Klaus accepts it gratefully and ducks his head when he starts coughing again. 

“Shouldn’t you be home in bed?” 

Klaus considers his bed in a wistful manner, like a theoretical concept as yet unproven. He stops considering to sneeze- once, then twice- and then he can’t remember what it was that Dave asked him. 

“Pardon?” Klaus knows it’s super gross, but he uses his sleeve to wipe his nose. He didn’t have the forethought this morning to bring an entire box of tissues with him or anything.

“Hmm,” Dave says, biting his lip- and his lips  _ do _ look very biteable from this angle- and then leaning forward. He fits the palm of his hand over Klaus’ forehead, then feels his neck with the back of his hand. “As I suspected.” 

“Huh?” Klaus is too stunned to say anything else. 

“Fever, cough, congestion,” Dave ticks off on his fingers. “Fatigue, sudden onset because you seemed okay yesterday… I think you, Mr. Hargreeves, have yourself a case of the flu.” 

Klaus lets that sink in. He sniffles, then says, “How’d you know I wasn’t sick yesterday?” 

  
Vaguely, he realizes that the first few students are starting to trickle into the room for the exam. Klaus doesn’t pay attention to them. All he can see are Dave’s bright blue eyes and the little smile that quirks his--very bitable!-- lips. 

“I noticed,” Dave says, as if casually. 

“You noticed,” Klaus repeats, and takes a drink of tea when his lungs threaten to rebel against him speaking more than a few words. “Why?” 

Dave just looks at him for a long while. “I always notice you, Klaus.” He reaches out and squeezes Klaus’ shoulder, hand lingering, then gets up. He clears his throat. “Let me take care of handing out the blue books and stuff, okay?” 

Klaus nods in agreement, then allows himself a quick coughing jag. By the time he’s finished, he’s almost dizzy from breathlessness and the fluorescent lights in the lecture hall hurt his eyes and  _ Jesus _ , all he wants is to go home and sleep for about a year. 

“Hey.” Dave’s back. “I have an idea,” he says, and at this point, Klaus will do pretty much anything to not be in this too-bright room about to sit there for two hours watching to make sure a bunch of undergrads don’t cheat on their Psych 101 final. 

“Okay,” Klaus agrees. “Hit me with it.” 

***

Dave’s idea actually turns out to be pretty genius- Hardass already left for the semester-- something about his wife’s family’s  _ winter home _ in the Bay Area-- and Dave’s in charge of watering the plants in his office until he gets back in mid-January. 

There’s a cushy little velvet couch in the office, and a striped throw blanket. Dave shrugs out of his corduroy blazer and folds it up like a pillow, then gestures for Klaus to lie down. He does so, and then Dave drapes the throw blanket on top of him.

“Rest,” Dave instructs. “I’ll take care of the kids and I’ll come back when they’re done with the test.” 

Klaus is too tired and sick to argue about any of this, but he’s sure once he’s thinking more clearly he’s going to be absolutely mortified that this happened. For now, though, his head is pounding and his eyelids are  _ so _ heavy and the blazer-pillow is warm from Dave’s body heat and smells vaguely of a spicy cologne and… he falls asleep. 

Waking up is disorienting- at first he’s not at all sure where he is or why and  _ Dave Katz _ is there holding the back of his hand to Klaus’ face and looking concerned and it’s all very… unexpected. 

“Klaus,” Dave says softly. “You feel really warm. I think I should take you home.” 

Two thoughts immediately go through Klaus’ mind: one, Dave Katz just said he was hot--  _ essentially _ \-- and two, Dave Katz just said he wants to take him home-- again,  _ essentially _ . 

Klaus doesn’t think it over. “Okay,” he says. 

*** 

So it turns out that maybe Klaus was wrong about Dave Katz all along. Or, well, not just maybe but actually. Because-- true to his word-- the guy not only takes care of all of the final exam turning in stuff, but he drives Klaus home and makes him change into pajama pants and gets him all settled on the couch. 

“Where’s your thermometer?” Dave asks once Klaus is ensconced in a quilt from his bed and has a fresh mug of tea waiting for him on the coffee table. Dave hadn’t even asked where Klaus kept the mugs and tea, he’d just gone right into the kitchen and started making it, as if he belonged there. 

“Medicine cabinet in the bathroom,” Klaus croaks. “And there’s Nyquil on the counter.” 

Dave brings both, and looks thoroughly disapproving when the thermometer reveals that Klaus has a fever of a hundred and three point one. 

“I can’t believe you came in like this,” Dave says as Klaus is grimacing at the taste of medicine. Klaus isn’t sure when he last washed his hair, and why is he now concerned about that? 

“I think you have the flu,” Dave continues. “Did you get a shot?” 

Klaus thinks. It’s difficult, because his head is filled with room-temperature jello. He tilts his head, and the jello shifts. “Uh… I think so?” 

“Regardless,” Dave says. “You’re probably going to be out of commission for a while.” 

“Ugh,” Klaus sniffs. “I feel  _ awful _ .” 

“I’m sure you do.” Dave makes a sad sound of commiseration and squeezes Klaus’ thigh through the blanket. Which, wait. When did that happen? 

“I noticed your voice sounded a little scratchy yesterday,” Dave says mildly, and Klaus looks up at him. Dave’s hand is still on his leg. 

“Yeah?” Klaus says, and coughs a little to try and clear the congestion from his voice. He’s unsuccessful. “Why would you notice that?” 

“I always notice you, Klaus.” Dave’s voice gets soft again, and his hand is  _ still there _ and Klaus suddenly feels even more like he can’t breathe. 

“For instance,” Dave says. “Right now I see that you need someone to take care of you.” 

“What,” Klaus says. “You’re gonna stay here and make me soup or something?” 

Dave sits back, looking pleased with himself. The hand disappears from Klaus’ leg, and he instantly misses the contact. 

“That’s right.” 

Dave gets up, and for a moment Klaus thinks that this is all this is, that Dave has some kind of caretaking complex or something, but then Dave looks back over his shoulder. 

“And when you’re better, I’m going to take you into that bedroom and make you forget you ever called me a, what was it, oh yes. ‘A pompous ass with a nose the size of Michigan.’” 

Klaus coughs to cover up his noise of surprise. 

“I, uh, didn’t say that,” he manages when he’s recovered control of his lungs. 

“Klaus,” Dave moves back over to the couch and presses a kiss to his warm forehead, “you’ve never been the most discreet person at the best of times. Luckily, I’m not going to hold that against you. Now let me go make you some goddamn soup.” 

***

The soup is good. Like,  _ really _ good. Dave says it’s called matzoh ball soup and it’s some kind of Jewish thing his mom always makes for him if she thinks he looks under the weather. 

Klaus eats half a bowl before he feels like he has to sleep again, and Dave tucks him into his bed after supervising his next dosage of medicine and checking that his fever hasn’t gone up. 

“I’ll be back,” Dave tells him, and Klaus drifts off on a cloud of cough medicine. 

When he wakes up again, Dave is back, smoothing his hair off of his forehead. Klaus feels hot and sticky, and Dave tsks as Klaus rouses. 

“Feeling any better?” Dave asks, and Klaus takes his time to consider. He looks around the room and sees a duffel bag he doesn’t recognize. 

“That yours?” he says instead of answering, and Dave nods. 

“Figured I’d make sure you didn’t choke to death.” He says it flippantly, but Klaus can see the wrinkle of concern in his forehead. 

It takes another minute, but somehow they’ve reconfigured and Klaus has his head in Dave’s lap, and Dave’s running his fingers through Klaus’ hair (which he’s now  _ sure _ hasn’t been washed in at least 36 hours). 

Klaus closes his eyes and can picture the next few months: arguing with Dave over psychological theory, making Cuban coffee for one another, walking hand in hand down State Street, falling asleep together in this bed. 

Suddenly, just one more semester of being co-TAs with Dave Katz doesn’t seem like nearly enough. 

*****

**Author's Note:**

> I went to law school at UW so please excuse my endless love for Madison, WI and its place in my heart as the most perfect college town to ever college town. 
> 
> That said, it's a ridiculous place and ["Jumping Around"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ac2s7EoMwAc) is a thing, as is "Hippie Christmas," aka the weird 24 hour period in mid-August when all college leases don't exist and everyone in college housing is homeless and leaves all their stuff they don't want out on the sidewalk. Thx hippie christmas for the midcentury record cabinet I use to both store records and to put my cat's food dish on top of so my dog can't reach it. 
> 
> Also, those cookies Klaus made are real and they are delicious. Recipe [here](https://www.averiecooks.com/candy-corn-and-white-chocolate-softbatch-cookies/). 
> 
> Special thanks to [painting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/painting/pseuds/painting) for listening to me blather on endlessly about Wisconsin and how much I love the "enemies to lovers" trope. 
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](superstringtheory.tumblr.com) so call me, beep me, you know where to reach me.


End file.
